A Girl to Love

by Betty Neels

  The children weren’t asleep. Indeed, they had never been more wide awake. They sat up in bed and demanded to know what dresses the ladies were wearing, what Sadie had eaten, had she danced, was Daddy enjoying himself?

  She answered their questions patiently and finally, because they wouldn’t settle, let them put on their dressing gowns and slippers and creep along to the gallery with her and peep down through its wrought iron railings.

  There were several people in the hall now, going to or coming from the dining room and the smaller sitting room where the food was laid out.

  ‘There’s Miss Thornton in that pink dress,’ whispered Anna, nipping Sadie’s arm. ‘She looks horrid—I do hope Daddy doesn’t want to marry her.’

  Sadie agreed with silent fervour.

  ‘And there’s Mrs Langley and Mrs Trevor talking to that fat man. There’s no sign of Daddy—where is he?’

  ‘With his guests,’ whispered Sadie, and hoped with all her heart that he was. She had given the matter some careful thought and had come to the conclusion that although he made light of his lovely lady friends, he really was thinking of getting married to one of them; little things he had let fall…it didn’t bear thinking about.

  ‘Bed, darlings,’ she whispered, and they all crept back and she tucked them up once more, giggling, but sleepy now. She sat down in a chair, glad of a few minutes’ quiet, not wanting to go back downstairs but knowing that she would because Oliver had asked her to. And she mustn’t think of him as Oliver; he must be Mr Trentham, now and always. Always? She went and peered at her face in the dressing table mirror. There was, she had to admit, absolutely nothing to attract a man in it.

  Sadie made sure that the children were really asleep and went to the half open door, then paused. Two women were standing with their backs to her, gossiping, not attempting to lower their voices. It took her a couple of seconds to realise that they were discussing her and Mr Trentham.

  ‘One wonders what he sees in her.’ It was the younger of the two women who spoke, and Sadie dimly remembered meeting her earlier in the evening.

  ‘But you know what a clever devil he is—she was only the housekeeper to start with, now she’s tied up with the kids. He’s charmed her into it, and that couldn’t have been difficult; she’s no beauty. I suppose she makes a change.’

  They laughed together and the other, older woman said: ‘Plain bread and butter between the cake, dear!’

  ‘Plain’s the word, darling. And I bet you that dress she’s wearing is one he bought for her.’ She laughed again, a spiteful sound. ‘I wonder he shows her off in the way he does.’

  ‘He’s no fool; I heard that they’re after him to write that documentary about the Middle East—you know the one I mean—very convenient for him, he’s got her so enslaved with those kids of his that she’ll stay to look after them until he feels like coming home again, then probably he’ll hint at wedding bells just around the corner.’

  ‘Not for her, though—Reggie told me in the strictest confidence that Oliver’s planning to get married. This stupid creature from God knows where looks just the kind to love him for ever and give in to his every whim while he nips off with his bride.’

  ‘Wonder who she is?’

  ‘I’ve no idea—none of us have—haven’t we all been trying to marry him for the last few years, and as far as I know, we’ve none of us succeeded in getting behind that suave charm.’

  They began to stroll towards the stairs. ‘All the same, I’d be willing to give it a whirl—marrying him. I often think we don’t know him at all.’

  The older woman’s answer was lost as they went downstairs, leaving Sadie, very quiet, very white, standing by the door. She felt sick and near to tears, remembering every word of their conversation. Was that what Mr Trentham’s friends thought of her? That she was a silly country girl, dazzled by his face and wealth, allowing him to pull the wool over her eyes until he found it convenient to sack her? And did he think of her in the same way? Did he laugh at her secretly? She couldn’t believe that. She put her small determined chin up and went downstairs, and her heart lifted when he came across the room to meet her.

  ‘Children all right?’ he wanted to know. ‘Sadie, I’m thinking of signing a contract for a script about the Middle East. This isn’t the time or the place to discuss it, but they want some sort of an answer by the morning.’

  So it was true; he was making use of her, because she knew now that he must have some idea of her feelings and was turning them to his own advantage. She didn’t want to believe it of him, but there didn’t seem any other answer, and here in the din and bustle of the party, she couldn’t think straight. She didn’t quite meet his eyes. ‘What about the children?’

  ‘They’re going to Cecilia for a day or two, they can stay longer—you could go with them, it will give you a break. We’ll have to get them down to the cottage in time for school, of course.’ He smiled at her and her heart rocked against her ribs. ‘There’s a great deal of planning to do—that will have to come presently.’

  There was no need for her reply as they were joined by the short fat man. He tapped Sadie on the shoulder. ‘Well, girlie, it all depends on you, you know. What’s it to be, yes or no?’

  Mr Trentham interposed coldly: ‘She’s hardly had time to make up her mind. I suggest we leave it until the morning.’ He looked at Sadie’s sober white face and gave a puzzled frown. ‘We’ll talk about this later.’ And when the man had gone away: ‘What’s happened, Sadie? Has someone said something to upset you?’

  She choked on a lie, and shook her head instead. Just in that last minute or two she had discovered that she couldn’t go on. She loved him and she had grown fond of the children, but there was no happiness for her in a future where he was married to someone else and she was the housekeeper, nanny, dwindling into her thirties, her forties. She would have to cut loose quickly, go right away. He could find another governess as well as someone to run the cottage, go to his Middle East job and marry this girl; for there was a girl, of that she was sure.

  She was hardly aware of the rest of the evening. Presently people began to leave until the very last had gone through the doors and Woodley was locking up. It was late, but while her courage was high, she must settle the matter. And Mr Trentham made it easy for her, strolling out of the drawing room, his hands in his pockets, smiling.

  ‘Thank God that’s over! Shall we have a drink before we go to bed? And talk…’

  ‘Nothing to drink, thank you, but I should like to talk.’

  He came to a halt, the puzzled frown back again. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I should like to leave, Mr Trentham. I should like to go back to the cottage…’

  He interrupted her. ‘Homesick? Well, I’m afraid I’m tied up for a couple of days, but I’ll drive you down as soon after that as possible.’

  ‘You don’t understand. I mean I want to leave—you and the children…’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘My dear girl, have you lost your wits or had too much sherry?’

  Sadie shook her head. ‘No. I’ll go by train tomorrow, please. I’ll pack my things there and go…’

  ‘Where to?’

  She looked away. ‘I’ll think of something.’

  ‘And what about Tom?’

  ‘I wondered if you would mind very much if he stayed at the cottage? The children love him and it’s his home.’

  ‘Yours too, Sadie.’ His voice was very gentle.

  She heaved a deep sigh. ‘I’ve quite made up my mind—if you don’t object, Mr Trentham.’

  ‘Of course I object, and I want to know your reasons.’

  ‘I’d rather not explain.’

  ‘Then don’t. I’ve no wish to force your confidence.’ His voice was harsh. ‘Presumably you have your excuses ready for the children—I thought you were fond of them, but I’ve been mistaken, as indeed I’ve been mistaken about other things. Make whatever arrangements you think fit—you may as well go tomorrow, I’ll take the c
hildren to my sister’s.’

  He opened his study door and went inside without another word.

  Sadie stood looking at the closed door. She only needed to take a few steps and open it and tell him about the gossiping women and ask him… What? If he loved her? That would be ridiculous. Whom he intended to marry? What was to become of her? Had he been jollying her along all these weeks for his own ends? She found that she couldn’t do it. Presently she went upstairs and undressed, got her case from the closet and packed her things. The sooner she went now the better. There were the children to tell, of course, and that would be ghastly. She lay in bed rehearsing what she was going to say, and what she would say to Oliver, too. Presently, from sheer misery, she slept.

  The little girls were blissfully unobservant of her white face and pink-tipped nose in the morning. They received her news with noisy regret, but since they believed she was only going for a few days while they visited their aunt, they cheered up quickly enough. Over the breakfast table Anna wanted to know if she couldn’t go with them for a few days and then go to the cottage. ‘You could, you know, Sadie,’ she begged.

  ‘Well, love, I thought it would be a good idea if I just popped down to the cottage and made sure that Tom was all right and get it a bit ready for your return, and there’s a basket to get for Gladstone and some things to buy…’

  It was a successful red herring, and presently they all went upstairs to pack the children’s clothes, and Sadie, more than thankful that Mr Trentham hadn’t been at breakfast, arranged their things.

  But he was there in the hall when Teresa came to say that the children were to go down to their father, and since it would have invited questions from the children if she hadn’t gone too, Sadie went with them. They shed a few tears as she kissed them goodbye, but cheered up quickly enough when she pointed out the grand time they were going to have at their Aunt’s. And as for Mr Trentham, he preserved a bland countenance which betrayed none of his feelings, bidding her a polite goodbye as they left. She went back to her room and had a good cry, then washed her face, finished her packing and went to say goodbye to the Woodleys and Teresa. Mr Trentham had said that he wouldn’t be back for lunch, but she dared not take the risk of seeing him again, so she got Woodley to get her a taxi and went to get her outdoor things.

  It was then that she saw the envelope on her dressing room table, and she tore it open, hoping wildly that he had written to her. There was a month’s salary inside, nothing more. It was a good thing that she hadn’t the time to have another good cry—as it was, she was hard put to it not to do so as she left, for the Woodleys and Teresa seemed sad to see her go.

  It was a long tiring journey, but she was lucky enough to catch the last afternoon bus to Chelcombe. It was dark as she began the walk up the lane to the cottage, and in the cold and the gloom as she went up the path, it looked far from welcoming. Moreover, she had forgotten all about food, and now, after nothing to eat all day, she was hungry.

  She unlocked the door and went inside, switching on all the lights as she went through the house. There was tea, of course, and sugar and some tinned milk and some tins of soup. She made a meal of sorts, dragged her case upstairs, undressed, and armed with several hot water bottles, went to bed. She would have all the next day to sort things out, air the cottage and lay the fires ready for the children’s return.

  She hadn’t expected to go to sleep, but she was so tired and unhappy that she could no longer think straight. Sleep overcame her before she had put two coherent thoughts together.

  It was pitch dark and very cold when she woke up and she knew at once that something had woken her. She sat up in bed, the bedclothes up to her chin, and listened. The noise came again, very faint, a gentle scraping. Someone trying to open a window? She got out of bed, bundled on her dressing gown and slippers and opened her door. The noise had stopped; she crept down the landing to the head of the stairs and started cautiously down them. She was almost at the bottom when the light was put on, freezing her with fear so that her shriek was whispered.

  Mr Trentham stood just inside the door, his sheepskin coat open over his dinner jacket. He looked tired, very tired, cross and at the same time satisfied about something.

  ‘Aren’t you going to ask me where I’ve been? You accused me once of never being home when I was wanted, but somehow I think I was right in thinking that I am wanted, Sadie. It is, of course, quite ridiculous that I should be forced to get up from a friend’s dinner table, get into the car and come racing down here just to prove my point.’

  Sadie came slowly down the rest of the stairs and stood in front of him.

  ‘I don’t understand—they said…’

  ‘Ah, they—at the party, no doubt, dropping poisonous gossip into each other’s ears for the lack of anything better to do. And you believed them? I’m surprised at you, Sadie—darling Sadie.’

  She was so anxious to explain that the words came tumbling out without much sense. ‘Well, you see, I wouldn’t have, only when you said you’d been offered this job in the Middle East, and they said…’

  He tossed his jacket into a corner and pulled her close. ‘My darling girl, I don’t want to hear what they said. They don’t exist in our world; you should never believe all you hear.’

  ‘I tried not to, but they said you were going to get married, and—oh, Oliver, I couldn’t bear that…’

  ‘Well, you’ll have to learn to, sweetheart, because you’re the girl I’m marrying and if you hadn’t been so busy being a housekeeper and mothering the children, you’d have seen that for yourself.’

  ‘Oh, Oliver!’

  He kissed her then, long and soundly, but presently she lifted her head.

  ‘The children, and Gladstone and Tom…’

  ‘The children and Gladstone will stay at Cecilia’s until we’re married. Tom will come here, of course, just as soon as we return here.’

  ‘But the job in the Middle East?’

  ‘I’ve said I can’t do it for six months at least—family commitments.’

  ‘Oh, but that little fat man…’

  ‘Quiet,’ said Oliver, and fell to kissing her again.

  ISBN: 978-1-4592-0405-8

  A GIRL TO LOVE

  Copyright © 1982 by Betty Neels.

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  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

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